Naïve Charm
by Jewcika
Summary: I can't get laid, and I can't get a break. All I can get is nail polish remover all over my pants. I'm starting to think that 'naiveté' isn't the right word. Stan's POV. StanButters. Oneshot.


_I'm still experimenting a bit here, since it's only my third fic._

_I've seen next to nothing of StanButters in the fandom, and that's just sad. Feed the fandom more Stutters, damnit!_

_Ahem. Anyways. Sorry if I managed to completely destroy the characters with OOCness. And for making Butters an idiot._

**Disclaimer:** _Don't own. Matt and Trey do._

--

"Thanks again for coming over to help me, Stan! I'm really nervous about my first day."

I nodded dumbly, busy staring at his ass clad in new orange Raisins shorts. So far, the only thing I had helped him with was telling him if his make-up looked alright whenever he asked. Or if his new Raisins uniform looked good on him. Or if Jason would like how he looked.

Ugh, I fucking hate Jason! That prick is one of the guys that used to gang up on him when he first came out, how the hell could he like _him_?

When Butters had first come out as gay in the eighth grade, I had been the one who told everybody to back off about a week later when things didn't seem to improve for him. Of course, that made everybody turn to _me_ as well, and I was called a fag for a good two months in the hallways.

Good thing Kyle inherited both his over-protectiveness and his temper from his mother. After a while, he got them to leave me and Butters alone. For the most part, at least.

Butters appreciated it, nonetheless, and had kind of tagged along with me since then. It was a bit annoying at first, but I got used to it. Butters had lost that especially irritating stutter he had through elementary and most of middle school. But over the years he had also grown into a petite, slender figure, with an ass that was nearly superior to that of Kyle's (Bebe's words of course). He still kept his naiveté about him that had more or less developed into a naïve _charm_, and honestly... hot damn, he really made you wish you could fuck his brains out.

I'm pretty sure I've been his best friend for the past two and a half years, and Jason hasn't.

So then again, why the fuck is _he_ the one that Butters is drooling over?!

I groaned, and sprawled out on his bed, plenty exasperated. "Why is it that you're working there again?" I ask him, hoping my voice doesn't give away too much. If it did, he doesn't catch on.

"'Cause Jason goes there every Friday afternoon at five thirty," he says, wiping excess eye shadow from his eyelid with a tissue.

Resisting the urge to scoff at that, I ask "Why is it that you're working there as a _girl_?"

He doesn't answer right away, since apparently he's busy adding some volume-plus shit to his pretty blond hair. Uh, I mean good-looking hair. Yeah.

Butters grew it out to shoulder-length, so I suppose all he does have to do is make it look less flat and more girly. Thank God, I think him wearing some ridiculous wig for dear old Jason would have been too much for me.

"Because I've seen him looking at all the girls there every time he goes." How many times he had followed him there and watched him watch girls, I don't want to know.

"Hasn't it occurred to you that he stares at the girls because he's NOT GAY?" I find myself yelling. He turns to look at me and raises a plucked eyebrow. I usually don't snap like that, so I suppose it must have surprised him. My angry demeanor quickly fades, and I sit up on his bed as he comes over and sits next to me.

"Okay Stan, you've been moody all week, is something wrong?" he says, looking genuinely concerned.

Great, now I feel like a jerk. I look away from him and start playing with a bottle of green nail polish on his bedside table, just to distract myself somehow. His frown disappears, and he starts rummaging through his backpack by the bed.

"Oh, thanks Stan. I have to get some nail polish remover. I can't wear colored nail polish at Raisins. I should go over the work guidelines so I don't get fired, huh?" he says, and I open my mouth to speak but close it. He already looks immersed in the task of retrieving the nail polish remover and some cotton balls, and reading the fifty-two fucking page booklet at the same time.

I like his multiple-colored fingernails. Why does he have to like Jason _this_ much? I suppose I should leave him alone about it, before I depress myself even more.

"I wouldn't want to get fired before I'm even able to wait on Jason's table."

Okay, that's it. Screw it.

I leap across the bed, swipe the booklet from his hands, and lean in for the kill, pulling him towards me by the shoulders.

Finally, the taste of vanilla-mint lip balm as my lips meet his in what I attempt to make a kiss of heated passion and sexiness from the all-manly Stan. His mouth opens in surprise, and I grab the opportunity to take the kiss further.

The smell of nail polish remover reaches my nose, and I feel the bottle spill its contents all over my jeans. I don't pay attention to it, as I let my lips massage his and my tongue play with his. He seems unsure of what to do, but is still responding to the kiss. At least enough so that I can mentally see him exclaiming "Oh, Stan take me now! I want your hot man juice!"

Of course, I can always see him exclaiming that, but that's not the point.

After a few more minutes, I finally pull away, and try to see what his reaction is. He just sits there looking pretty confused for a while, before he smiles and grabs the Raisins booklet that had been hanging loosely from my hand.

"Gee, thanks again Stan! I probably _should_ say I'm taken if they try to hit on me. Unless it's Jason, of course."

I sit there and stare stupidly as he continues to talk over seeing Jason on Friday while cleaning up the nail polish remover and reading the stupid booklet. I proceed to bang my head repeatedly on the wall.

Goddamit.


End file.
